Ways of Our Lives
by Worldmage
Summary: This story contains my first ever fight scene! After that there's a pretty standard psychological exploration. Feedback on story and characterization is very welcome.


Disclaimer: I claim no ownership in the property of Gainax, ADV, or any other anime production or distribution company. I claim no monetary or other material profit from this or any work of fan-fiction. Leave my writing in peace unless you have constructive criticism to help improve my craft.

Ways of our Lives

"Look, the way I see it is, you owe us. My dad's apartment building got trashed in that attack and I lost all my stuff, right? Same with my buddies here. Now, being a pilot means you need to take responsibility for your actions. You gotta be a leader, a role model. Else what are you worth?"

It was like Touji again, but worse. This time, three high-school students had cornered Shinji, and they really meant business. He wasn't going to be saved by quirky adventures or them climbing into his Eva unit, even if Father would allow it. He knew their names were Ichirou, Taro, and the leader was Yousuke, but didn't know much more, and nothing of use. They talked like gangsters. They were larger, better dressed and far stronger than he was.

This wasn't the first time they'd met. Shinji carried little pocket money, but had taken to carrying up to ten thousand yen when he could get away with it. He was careful to keep Misato from noticing the amounts he took from his account, adding a percentage to his withdrawals for shopping, laundry, and other errands. He also gave them his bento some days, for which they thanked him heartily and with much good humor. He was starting to become nervous, though, that Asuka might notice. She had caught him piling on the rice and fish cakes last week and given him an odd look. Fortunately, neither she nor Misato, who apparently remained ignorant, had subjected him to the teasing and questioning he had feared.

He knew he couldn't keep it up forever, though. Living with his aunt and uncle had left him able to calculate how long this sort of abuse could be hidden before things broke down and something truly unpleasant happened. It was a hard balance to find.

"How much did you say I owe you?" He kept his eyes down, his posture submissive. Make no trouble. Don't run away. "I'll pay you the rest, to finish replacing your CDs or whatever, as soon as I can. But there are some things I can't do."

"Forget the money." That was Taro, the most cronyish member of the trio. "Forget it. Are you demanding we give you an itemized bill?"

Ichirou broke in. "Yeah, we don't care much about material stuff. Easy come, easy go. This is about the pain brought upon our tender hearts by losing our homes."

"In other words," said Yousuke, "we want some comforting. So, you set us up on dates with that German chick. I hear she's into older guys, right?"

They snickered. Ichirou broke in again. "Yeah, and none of that crap she pulled with Takada. They say she left him in the line at an amusement park and just went home. He was seeing red, you know? But we're not gonna put up with that. Just a date."

Shinji was disgusted. These boys were seventeen, eighteen, lusting after a fourteen-year-old. He fought to keep his hands from clenching. If he didn't refuse in just the right way, they'd hit him again. The status quo was worth a little effort.

"I can't," he told them. "I can tell her you're interested, but she gets so many love letters already. How am I supposed to convince her to go on a date with any particular person?"

"My brother," said Taro, "you make it sound as if you are incapable of selling our image to her properly. Are you implying you don't recognize our virtuous qualities?"

The shook their heads and made disappointed noises. Shinji felt his muscles relaxing, his whole body going limp as it always did when he was about to be hit. It reminded him of an article he had read about drunk drivers and car accidents. Supposedly, alcohol loosens the musculature, which reduces the damage the body takes in an impact. He didn't soften his own body for the beating on purpose, but was always glad to think that he was more resistant to getting seriously harmed up than most boys his age. But while this was flashing through his mind, the others were closing in. They had already crowded him into a corner on an empty street, so there was no escape and no help.

"If he's forgotten our good points, I guess we need to introduce ourselves again." That was Yousuke, reaching to grab and twist Shinji's shirt collar.

"Talking about me behind my back? That's not polite!" —And that was Asuka, suddenly, charging in like the cavalry with war banners flying in her own breeze, a childlike glee shining from her face and making her halo even more radiant.

-

Asuka was worlds away, in a small still clear room at the center of time and space. She owned time and space. Somewhere outside this room, her body moved and the world rolled crazily around it, but the thing that was Asuka sat in the middle and owned.

Her initial lunge was more for shock value than for damage, a knee-fake to Yousuke's groin to put him on the defensive, followed by a quick backhand to the nose, making his eyes water. She staggered him back with a pushing strike to the solar plexus while kicking behind herself as the others closed in.

Ichirou, the kick's target, sidestepped and attempted to catch her leg. She dropped and tried to sweep his feet, striking an ankle but failing to knock him down. He bulked toward her, not attacking in earnest so much as trying to dominate and suppress with Taro's help. It wasn't enough.

Taro was the less imposing enemy, and as such, the next target. Asuka carried the battle to him with a storm of punches that backed him up several meters to the wall, then she hammered his gut three times. Before he could recover, she swung him away from the wall and used his weight as a counterbalance to send herself away from Ichirou's next swipe. Taro trip-ran a couple of meters, caught clumsily at a signpost, and fell.

Meanwhile, Yousuke was ready for action. Eyes still watering, he launched a combination of roundhouse swings. She cut him short by stepping into the attack and striking a hard blow to the biceps of one arm with one hand and his neck with the other. He stopped, staggering in place. Asuka launched another sweep at Ichirou, then a roundhouse kick at his head. He stepped back. Still moving with the momentum of her previous kicks, she spun into the air and slammed a powerful sidekick into Yousuke's chest. Shinji watched as the older boy lost traction with the ground, tipped, and hit the sidewalk a body-length away. His head made a frightening noise as it hit the pavement, and Shinji suspected that Yousuke was at least mildly concussed.

Ichirou was frightened now. Fear led to anger, anger led to hatred, and hatred led to the dark side and to suffering. He was no longer playing games. He took a solid stance and brought his arms up.

At this point, Asuka could have disarmed her enemy psychologically, simply by taking Shinji and leaving. Ichirou was enough of a pack animal that helping his comrades would have come before trying to continue the fight. However, she did not know his mind, and even if she had, a quiet victory by psychological maneuvering was not her style. She went in to break him.

Noticing his stance, she skittered in a circle, jabbing and slapping at his guard in an attempt to read his style. She saw that it was heavy and eager, and pressed the attack with a series of kicks. At first he attempted to block, slamming his forearms against her shins in a defense that didn't seem to bother either of them although Shinji winced, watching. Then, after missing several, Ichirou pushed forward, stopping her knee with his hip, and struck her hard with a palm to the chest. She flew back against Shinji, who barely managed to keep both Children from falling.

He opened his mouth to speak, but found he could not. Asuka's eyes were narrow calculating slits, but now they suddenly widened, the pupils dilating weirdly. Her mouth was fixed in a vicious grin that looked ready to tear flesh from bone and swallow it whole, wolflike. She gathered herself up and sprang forward, using Shinji as a launch platform.

Ichirou was ready, but not ready enough. He responded with a counter-lunge and a triple-punch combination that would have stopped most opponents. Asuka ducked under it.

The small, still, calculating Asuka at the center of the universe pondered her options. In front of her was the soft underbelly; the opponent's major weak points were all open to choose from, now that his hands were out of the way. For a moment she regretted that this body did not have shoulder-launched spikes, as Unit-02 did.

She decided to rise into an uppercut, which would most likely disorient him and end the fight for good, but never began the action. Instead, her peripheral vision caught a motion from below as his knee began to rise. This enemy was skilled, and had somehow managed to react to her attack with a knee-strike that would hit her chest or stomach if she did not avoid it. Never one to retreat, she planted her forward foot on his instep, drove her knee forward to lock his, and then struck down with both hands and the rest of her body-weight. She head-butted him in the belly, knocking his breath out, while breaking the knee. His back slapped the ground and she flowed forward over his body, breaking his nose before rolling off and springing into a preparatory stance from which she surveyed the battleground. This was perhaps thirty seconds after Yousuke had begun to reach for Shinji.

None of the attackers moved. She was certain that Taro was still awake and even combat-capable. However, he was motionless, feigning unconsciousness, and therefore not a threat.

Then she made her first error by looking into Shinji's eyes—they were wrong. They didn't blink. They didn't waver. He was looking through her body, through her mind, at the tiny omniscient Asuka-fragment at the hub of everything, the one that had just severely damaged three of the human beings she was supposed to protect from the Angels. Those bland brown eyes, not touched by the feral despair she suspected he kept locked up somewhere, latched onto Asuka and pulled her back into her own body. As the adrenaline faded, she felt briefly that she knew how her Eva must feel when its batteries ran out.

"You," he said. His mouth was moving. "You." His voice was strangely calm. Shock? She considered taking him home and making him lie down with a drink of water. "You." She considered doing the same for herself. Suddenly, nothing was moving. Normal movement after the intensity of combat felt like trying to do karate in a tai chi world. It didn't work; it was sluggish and clumsy.

She reached out toward him. _Are you okay?_ she said in her head, but he flinched away before she could form the words. She felt her shoulders tense up.

"Let's go," she said coldly. "There's no need to thank me."

"I should call," he said. "The ambulance or something."

"Let Mister Big Shot there go to the police and explain," she barked. "Come on." He flinched again, but followed as she turned and forced her way through the heavy air.

Despite Asuka's leaden motions, Shinji somehow contrived to lag behind her. She heard him making a call from a public phone, but pretended not to notice. "Three guys," he said. "Near the third block of Sakadou ward. Yes. I think they're from the high school. Thank you very much."

She cursed inwardly. Shinji thought he knew it all; thought he could read her like a book. Fine! Let him! Was he trying to make her feel even guiltier? The primary rule of combat was always to neutralize the opponent. All of those guys owed their lives to Shinji; how dare they threaten the safety of mankind by harming one of the Children? But she looked at the blood from Ichirou's nose. It was on her palm and knuckles, so she could see it whether her hand was clenched into a fist or lying open.

-

"Heeeyyy kids!"

Misato burst into the apartment with her accustomed evening enthusiasm, swinging a shopping bag. "It's Nothing Special Day, but Ritcchan and I went to the shopping center and she helped me pick up a new dress suit for the presentation to the UN Armed Forces Commission and I got some toys for you."

She paused to catch a breath and unload the gifts on the table. "Shinji, I know you like music so I got you some Yo Yo Ma cello tapes for your SDAT. Asuka, I figured you'd be interested in Japanese legends so I got you this figurine. Isn't it wicked? Look at the detail on the paint job!"

Taking the tape, Shinji looked at it with interest. This might be a viable alternative to the old tape; there were only two tracks that he could stand to listen to on that one. Asuka drifted into the room listlessly.

If Misato noticed the Children' subdued mood, her only reaction was to incrementally increase her own good cheer. "Asuka! Look! Present for you! _Geschenk_! That's right, isn't it?"

Asuka took the box, looking at it for a moment as if it were a brick, then tore off the wrapping with a quick hand motion. She opened the lid and looked in, exhibiting a spark of emotion in the form of curiosity.

"You see," said Misato, "there's this legend of the nine-tailed demon fox and it's a figure that, um, figures in a lot of Japanese folk tales and I remember you liked the folk literature best back in the States when you were a kid. And I saw this figurine and I figured you'd like the whole idea of a powerful magical creature like that, and I thought about its shapeshifting abilities and cleverness, so it's perfect for you, and then of course it's got almost exactly the same beautiful auburn shade as your hair. Isn't it great?"

The commentator in Shinji's mind _humh_ed appreciatively. The odd way she had phrased that reminded him of his own realization about Asuka—that she showed different people different faces, a sort of shape-shifting common to the postmodern world—and he realized that Misato knew it too, and was trying to tell Asuka that she knew. She knew Asuka was tired from the stress of maintaining different faces to show the world. She was trying to draw Asuka out emotionally in order to relieve that stress.

It worked, but the feelings drawn out were not what their guardian had expected. Asuka's spark of emotion hit some buried gas main in her psyche and exploded. "I am not a demon," she snapped, letting the box drop. "I am NOT! Why can't you people ever leave me alone?"

Shinji felt his body relax. It was like the time he had had a bicycle accident: the world was turning over and there was no way to stop it. Misato rocked back in surprise. Asuka's voice rose as she converted a hurricane of feelings into rage. "All I ever wanted was to be a good person, and now you're calling me a red-haired demon? You're calling me an animal? I'd like to see you put up with, with—" her Japanese was becoming erratic, and now she fumbled for words— "with IDIOTS all your life! DAMN IT!"

She shook her head violently, back straight, then stood and stared at the far wall with burning eyes. When Misato did not respond, she turned and marched to her room, closing the door not with a slam but with the shuddering _click_ of extreme control. Misato turned her startled look to Shinji. After a while, he began to explain.

-

"Thank you for your report, Major," said Gendo. "I am glad that neither of the Children were harmed. You may choose whether to assign agents to the Children as full-time security detail. I expect no disciplinary action to be necessary for the perpetrators, but please inform their parents and teachers, and make it clear to them that threatening or harming a UN employee is a grave offense."

"Yes. Sir. What about Soryu?"

"Fuyutsuki has prepared an official commendation. I will thank her in person for protecting my son." There almost seemed to be a hint of warmth in his voice.

Misato raised her eyebrows, about to speak. He continued. "There will be no discipline for her outburst. Your report spent a good deal of time discussing it, but if you feel it is important, I trust you as her guardian to handle matters. I understand that she may not take such a commendation in the light it is intended, but it is our policy to express ourselves openly."

She stared at him. The light glinted off of his glasses, rendering him unreadable as ever. She nodded and left the room.

"Besides, " he said grimly to the empty room, "there are things she should be told before the end."

-

The scene was NERV-formal: they were in conference room 15A, tiled with a map of what remained of the Kansai region, brightly-lit and sharp and clean. Gendo and Fuyutsuki stood impressively in full uniform to one side, the Children, and Ritsuko and other section chiefs to the other, and Misato flanked the middle. She had a smile on her face that tried to hide her dissatisfaction and support Asuka without seeming false, and therefore looked as if she were glad but itching very badly and unable to scratch.

"Soryu Asuka Langley," said Fuyutsuki. She stepped forward, bowed and saluted, not bothering to hide her puzzlement.

"The Children are soldiers," said Gendo. Shinji jumped slightly. Gendo glanced at him. "Despite their age, each has shown courage and strength on the field of battle; each of them has saved the lives of the others. Good soldiers learn to support each other as a team." Rei nodded as if she were taking notes.

"However," continued Fuyutsuki, "one soldier has shown initiative and courage off of the battlefield as well. Recently, Miss Soryu acted to prevent an occurrence that could have been detrimental or even disastrous to our ability to defend against Angel attacks. I hereby present an official commendation to Miss Soryu for her actions."

He bowed to her, then stepped forward and shook her unresisting hand while the others applauded politely. Fuyutsuki returned to his position. Asuka stared at her hand. Shinji fidgeted. Rei didn't quite smile, but looked generally pleased.

Gendo spoke. "Although circumstances may be seen as providing an excuse, our failure to give Shinji NERV standard unarmed-combat training was obviously an error. Fortunately, Miss Soryu has clearly trained sufficiently to offset that mistake. You should be proud."

"Proud?"

The room immediately went very still. Asuka's voice was shrill, bitter, and she did not shrink from their discomfort. "Why should I be proud? I thought my duty was to defend humanity, not to maim other people in defense of NERV.

"This project has already eaten years away from me, and now you're offering me a little ceremony because it seeped into my every waking moment? I gave my life away! I'm nothing at all if not a pilot; NOTHING! What good is a university degree when you're thirteen? I could make my living as a sideshow freak, but that's about it. All I wanted was people who would TALK to me, and what do I get? Your precious Ayanami brushes me off. Half the girls are jealous of me and all of them talk behind my back; the boys either hate me or see me as a prize doll to be won at a festival, and I'm supposed to be satisfied with a pat on the back?

"Ikari-shirei, I'll tell you what would make me happy. I want some way to wash that boy's blood from my hands, so I can feel like a defender of humanity again like I was supposed to be, not… not," she threw a glare at Misato, "not like an animal!"

She had never quite screamed or shouted, but it was obvious that only the presence of strangers kept her emotions in check. The room seemed ready to settle into an icy, stunned state but Gendo gestured and Fuyutsuki silently motioned all but Asuka and the commander out. He studied the floor map impassively; she watched him with growing unease. She could not read this man: Asuka could not find the center of the universe here, and had begun regretting her words the moment they were spoken, no matter how good they had felt to say.

Then Gendo looked at Asuka. He seemed tired and angry, startlingly and frighteningly so, but something softened his steely imposition of will and made the glance bearable. "That was a selfish and childish display. Miss Soryu, you will not know true pain until you carry the memory of a year in which half the world died. If a little blood from a back-street bully bothers you now, wait until you're on the shore of an ocean of blood—the heart's blood of everyone you knew and many you never had a chance to know. Wait until you don't even know whether you can trust the ones who remain.

"And remember that if you don't do your job correctly, the fate we face may be even worse than that. Remember that my son has protected the city. The value of any member of NERV is more than of cities. You have done your job well enough, the Angels have not won yet, and you are dismissed."

Part of her wanted to shout at him again, but she found that her voice would not work. He adjusted his tinted glasses and fixed her with a penetrating gaze that lasted until the door closed behind her.

-

"Asuka?" said Shinji. "About the fight—"

"I don't want to hear it."

"No, stop. I—"

"Are you telling _me_ to stop?" She was suddenly deep inside his personal space, nose to nose, her allergy-reddened eyes glaring into his, her incongruously sweet ricecake-scented breath filling his senses. He tried to speak but it was like talking to an onrushing locomotive. "Who are you to tell me to do anything? I said I don't want to hear anything else about those _Drekköpfe_ and I don't want to think any more about the whole ugly business and if you have the nerve to tell me what to do you'd better be willing to back it up, boy!"

He shook his head mutely until she stopped and let him speak. "No, I mean you shouldn't have to feel bad about what happened."

She was furious now. "Yeah? You always think you're so clever! I suppose you'll tell me how I _should_ feel, right?"

"No," he said. "What I mean is, it was all my fault. I was weak and stupid and if I'd found a way to give them more, nothing would have come off-balance. It would have been ok if you let them hit me a little; they never did anything that would leave marks anyway."

She stared. "I thought so. How long?"

"Two Angels ago—since about a week after that. It was mostly just money; compared to my wages it doesn't even matter."

"Doesn't matter!" Asuka was clearly ready to explode, as soon as she could translate her anger into Japanese for him.

"It was my fault. If I weren't so weak and stupid, they wouldn't have had any reason. Their apartments were destroyed, Asuka. It's my fault. I don't even know why NERV wanted me to pilot. I don't know why I pilot at all—the only reason I can think of, is so I can stay here in Tokyo-3 with the people I like. It's all because I'm selfish, and a coward, and not good like you."

She brushed the compliment off. "Shinji, you're one of the Children. Those guys are gutter trash. I bet they never proved their homes were really lost. You're a punk, but it's because you give in to worthless people like that, not because they're better!"

"No." His head and his voice could hardly sink lower without major surgery. "I'm the one who's worthless. Even Father thinks so."

Asuka stopped short for a moment, then blinked several times. One hand reached out silently, brushed past his cheek, and landed on his shoulder.

She shook him like a maraca. "Like hell! Your father may not say much, but he's said more to you than to me so far! Even if all you have is luck, it's stupid not to recognize what you have."

"Yeah, I'm stupid too." His face slid into the smallest, ugliest smile she had ever seen, both proud of his own cleverness and anticipating further abuse to add to his self-pity. She felt sick to her stomach. Neither of them moved—Shinji kept his head and eyes turned to the side, wearing that little smirk like a badge. Asuka was startled at the weight of his body. He seemed to be hanging from her hand, viciously limp in a way that brought new power to the world of passive-aggression. She sized him up with sharp eyes, conversations mapping themselves in her mind like possible paths in a game of chess.

"Fine." She put him down and turned away. "I suppose if you messed up in the Eva and we all died, then you'd just shrug and chalk it up to your stupid weakness again. And then you'd go home and feel sorry for yourself all day long, and write bad poetry about it at night."

Because her back was turned, she missed the blend of emotions he cycled through.

"Oh, 'I suppose you'll tell me how I _should_ feel,'" he snipped. "Right." She turned back to see that he was actually sneering. It was just a faint twist of the skin, a certain tension of the facial muscles, but on Shinji it was the equivalent of unbridled spite.

"Actually, yes," she snapped back. "_If_ you're really a useless idiot, then you have no right to challenge my authority when I tell you to act strong. If you had to do what those losers said, you definitely have to do what I say, because I beat them."

He started to say something, but she had already gone into her room and shut the door.

Asuka lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She wasn't good at this mind-game thing. Catching Shinji in a logical paradox was a good start, but it wasn't going to change him. What to do next? Should she talk to Misato about this? Misato was busy, though, and didn't understand. Maybe it would be better to do some reading. There ought to be sources online that she could look up. Yes.

"Asuka."

She looked around. She was alone in her room.

"Asuka." The disembodied voice was Shinji's. He was standing outside her door, speaking just loudly enough to be clearly audible through the false-wood plastic panel. "You're right. I'm not really that weak. I used to think I was, but living here taught me things. Touji taught me a lot. So did Rei. So have you. I have an Eva that could kill everybody in the city. Isn't that strong?"

Acknowledgement didn't seem necessary or expected, so she remained silent. He continued.

"I can figure out how things work inside of people, Asuka. I never learned about it in school like you probably did, so I don't know the _why_ that goes with the _how_. There are a lot of things I don't know. But those guys, they wouldn't have done anything really bad.

"You don't believe that, but that's because you've never known anybody like them. They want to have their fun pushing me around, so I give it to them. And I give them spare change and rice and a chocolate bar every now and then. And it's ok.

"Every once in a while, it gets so it feels too easy for them. I never give any resistance. The way it works is that they ask for more and more, because there aren't any limits, but then they ask for something I can't give, and they know I can't give it so they have nothing. It's like in tai chi where they make a punch and you take it and lead it into nothingness and their punch is gone. So they have to start over again. I can do it forever. They never get anything more than a little money and food, so there's no harm done. Sometimes they even give up entirely, although when that happens I get beaten up pretty badly. But the only person who ever gets hurt is me, so it's ok."

Standing by the closed door, looking at it as if it were a window into reality, Asuka shook her head. Her voice was even, uninflected. "Are you trying to tell me that it's my fault because I shouldn't have interfered?"

"No, not at all! I mean—"

She chuckled. "No, that's exactly it." The thought that she should be angry with him was germinating in her preconscious, ready to grow into a vine of wrath, but for now she was back at the center of the universe, playing the game. It was a different game from the battlefield, true, but no less invigorating in its subtlety. Still, her hands twitched.

"How do you get off on that? —Pretending everything's your fault. You take passive-aggression to its logical end and then you rationalize getting hurt. Do you really feel that superior to the rest of us? Do you feel in control because you can choose who hits you, and when?"

A thought struck her so hard that her whole body stiffened, eyes widening, battle-grin fading. "Do you think that way about _me_?"

There was only silence.

Asuka the destroyer.

Asuka the red demon.

Asuka the bloody demon-fox, powerful beyond the comprehension of the _Untermenschen_ around her. What else had she ever been? A little girl? Betrayed, abandoned and lost? No, insufficient.

Protector of mankind? No, she simply did her job. Anybody could do it. Warrior? Ugh.

Scholar. Hikari's friend. Young woman trying her wings in a strange world.

Human.

She opened the door. "Is that the only way you know how to think about people?" she asked him. He stared at her.

He still stared at her. Minutes passed. This was worse than standing in the elevator with Rei. Finally, his thoughts stopped and got off at the ground floor. He nodded somberly.

They decided that they had a lot of work to do. When Misato got home, they told her. After several moments of surprised silence, she agreed. Outside, the sun was setting, but the lowering sky seemed neither so gray nor so red as it always had before.

—

Author's Notes: This fic sprang to life while I was watching _Studio Project: Panda_'s Evangelion music video set to "Chemicals" by Bush. It came during the fight scene in the second chorus, to be specific. (www.sppanda.com! Thanks for the brain-flash, Daniel!) Oddly enough, I downloaded and watched the video while taking a break from a project for a German class.

This fic differs from my usual work in that it is far more external, I think, although there is also a psychological element. By that, I mean that there's a fight scene. Another difference is that this fic is more difficult to insert into one of the empty spaces in canon.

"Untermensch" is the opposite of "Übermensch," of course.

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. Thank you, everyone!

-Worldmage


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